


Blueberry Pancakes

by JLMonroe1234



Series: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Diners, F/M, Hurt Peter Parker, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Michelle is an insomniac and eats at 24 hour diners, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Michelle Jones, they live in the same apartment building, this is short but it's the intro to a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-20 06:30:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22077661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLMonroe1234/pseuds/JLMonroe1234
Summary: It's the middle of the night, and Michelle's in her favorite diner.Peter's there too, and he's bruised as hell.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589194
Comments: 15
Kudos: 196





	Blueberry Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty short, but it's the first work in a series! Yay!
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: This work is an original by JLMonroe1234 and has been posted STRICTLY to AO3. If you see it duplicated on any other platforms, please let me know so appropriate action can be taken. Thank you!

The diner was about as empty as MJ had expected it to be. It was a 24-hour joint, but was far from crowded at 11:30pm on a Wednesday evening. Only two servers were staffed in the dining room (Rochelle and Suzy, MJ’s favorites). Per the diner’s typical routine, only one cook could be seen through the kitchen window. There was no need for more than that this late at night. Suzy was behind the register, apparently calculating the day’s totals with a pencil between her teeth and a calculator in her hand. Rochelle was currently talking to someone in a booth in the corner of the restaurant. She skillfully refilled their coffee mug without looking, her free hand twirling through the air as she articulated whatever story she was in the middle of. 

She’d been expressive and a little eccentric for as long as MJ could remember, but it was one of the things she admired about the woman. She was quick to find the fun and joy in almost everything she did, whether it was serving food or singing to customers on their birthday. 

Rochelle swiftly patted the table with the palm of her hand twice. “I’ll have that breakfast platter right out, doll.” 

“Thanks, ma’am.” 

The waitress padded off to the kitchen. The booth’s occupant had their elbows on the table, chin resting in their hands. A hoodie covered a majority of their face. The neon “Open” sign blinking in the window next to them gave off a gentle glow, tinting the small amount of skin they had on display bright red and blue. 

“Hey there, sweetie, glad you came by!” Suzy had looked up from the register, the pencil previously in her mouth now tucked behind her ear. “Sit anywhere you’d like, I’ll be right over.” 

MJ smiled. “Thanks, Suz.” 

Apart from herself, the person by the window, and a couple at a table in the back, there was no one else in the diner. MJ chose a booth near the front of the joint, close to the front counter but far enough from the lone stranger for her seating choice to not be awkward. 

If Michelle didn’t know any better, she’d say the hooded person looked...Tired. Exhausted, really, if the way their chin kept slipping off of their folded hands said anything. She watched as they dozed off, slipped on their own hands, and woke back up several times in the span of a couple of minutes. 

Suddenly Suzy was walking over, one of her white tennis shoes untied as she plopped down in the seat opposite MJ. “Sorry for the wait. Day-shift had their totals _totally_ off, and because I’m just such a saint, I decided to fix it all for them.” 

MJ chuckled. “They’d be lost without you, Suz.” 

“Damn straight. Now, what brings you here at midnight when you’ve got school in the morning?” Her tone was accusatory, one of her thin eyebrows lifted in curiosity. 

“A study session turned into a study _night._ Lost track of time and forgot to eat dinner. Dad’s working the night shift and we don’t have any food in the apartment, so I thought I’d drop by.” 

Suzy reached across the table and squeezed one of MJ’s hands. “Well I’m glad you did. Made my night, honey. What can I get you?” 

“Do you even need to ask?” 

“Blueberry pancakes, vanilla milkshake.” 

“You’re a queen, Suzy, truly.” 

“Don’t I know it, girl. I’ll have that out for you soon.” 

“Thanks.” 

Just as Suzy walked to the kitchen window to talk to the cook, Rochelle walked through the swinging doors with three different plates on her arm. “Alright,” she said, “breakfast platter. Bacon and sausage,” she put the first plate on the hooded person’s table, “eggs, over-easy,” she placed the second plate, “and two blueberry pancakes.” The third plate concluded her delivery. She wiped her hands on her apron, then rested them on her hips. 

The smells from the food must have roused the customer a bit, because they sat up in their seat and pushed up the sleeves of their sweatshirt. 

“Thank you, ma’am.” 

“Of course sweetheart.” Then Rochelle did something a bit out of character; she gently placed a hand on the customer’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. Her smile was small, maybe even laced with pity, if Michelle was reading it right. 

Rochelle was always polite and open, but rarely touched customers. She’d always claimed that “New York was dirty as hell, the people in it even worse.” Michelle had some of the same reservations regarding physical contact (for a few different reasons), so the mentality was understood. 

Suzy came by with MJ’s milkshake, and she took it with a nodded thanks. Just before she walked away, though, Michelle tapped her on the shoulder. “Suz. What’s their deal?” Michelle nudged her chin in the direction of the hooded stranger. 

“Poor baby. Came in beat to hell. He’s hiding it under that hood, but he’s got a nasty shiner. Now that I think about it, he looks about your age.”

“Geeze.”

“Must be waiting for his parents to fall asleep or something so he can sneak past ‘em. I wouldn’t want my folks seeing me like that, either. I can’t decide if they’d be worried or pissed.” 

The couple sitting in the back of the diner paid their bill and left, temporarily blocking Michelle’s view of the stranger in the booth. They stopped and talked for a minute at the door, standing directly in MJ’s line of sight. She sucked on her milkshake impatiently. 

Once they finally left, Michelle was pleasantly surprised to see that the stranger had removed his hood. The diner lighting was dim and didn’t offer much in the way of real identification, but she was able to pick out a mop of messy, slightly curly brown hair. In fact, the hoodie was a pretty familiar shade of blue-

MJ really, really hoped she was right about this, because if not, things were about to get extremely embarrassing. 

She stood from her own booth just as Suzy was coming over with her pancakes. They smelled absolutely amazing, but they could wait for a minute or two. Just until Michelle could make sure her eyes weren’t fooling her. 

She patted Suzy’s shoulder as she passed her, and the waitress didn’t ask any questions as MJ firmly planted herself in the seat opposite the brown-haired stranger. 

Well, if she was right, he wasn’t a stranger at all. 

“Peter.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. 

Peter’s head lifted just enough to prove it was him; Michelle would recognize those doe eyes anywhere. She also couldn’t help but notice the dark shadow starting at his left eyebrow and ending at his cheekbone. 

“M-Mich- I mean, MJ. Hey. What’s up?” 

One of Michelle’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “What’s up? You’re asking _me_ what's up? Have you seen yourself?” 

Peter coughed. “You know, these pancakes are amazing-“ 

Suddenly Suzy was beside MJ, setting her pancakes and half-drank smoothie on the table. “She knows, sweetie.” 

“Oh, no Suz, I’m not sitting here, I’m just-“

“You are now. We don’t leave food sitting, Miss Jones, you know that.” 

“Sorry Suzy.” 

“Mhm.”

Michelle hastily tore off a piece of pancake and shoved it in her mouth. Peter did the same, shoveling bacon between his lips until he couldn’t fit anymore. He didn’t seem to be in any rush to start talking. 

“So why are you here?” Michelle asked once she’d finally swallowed her food. 

Peter covered his mouth with his hand. “To eat. I’m hungry.” 

“No shit. I meant _here_ specifically. I'm here constantly and have never run into you.” 

Michelle couldn’t help but notice Peter wincing as he chewed, as if the motion hurt his jaw. She wondered if he’d managed to bruise that too. “Working late. You know, the Stark internship. May took the graveyard shift tonight and we really have no food in the house. This place was on the way home.” He used his fork to cut up a piece of sausage, spearing one of the smaller bits and bringing it to his mouth. 

“What about you? Isn’t it a little late for a woman to be running around Queens alone?” 

“So you’re saying I can’t handle myself?” 

Peter’s eyes widened and he almost spit out his sausage. He unintentionally raised his chin a bit, and Michelle’s previous suspicions were confirmed. Dark, purple bruising near the right edge of his jawbone. Someone really knocked him around. 

“N-No! That’s not at all what I was saying, I just-“ 

“I’m messing with you.” 

“Oh. Huh. Yeah, of course.” 

MJ took a sip of her milkshake. She slowly ran a piece of pancake through the puddle of syrup on her plate, watching Peter as he did the same. 

“You never answered my question,” Peter said, a little more confidence in his voice than before. 

“What question?” 

“Why you’re here.” 

“Ah. Yea. Same as you, I guess. Dad’s working late and the kitchen’s empty.” 

Peter just nodded and kept eating. He’d already finished off his sausage and bacon, only one pancake and his eggs remaining. “I like this place,” he said. “Staff’s nice. Food’s good.” 

“Right? My favorite is the-“

“Blueberry pancakes,” they both said at once. 

Rochelle and Suzy, both standing behind the front counter, snorted loudly. Peter just chuckled. Michelle noticed a certain stiffness in his shoulders, as if they were sore and he was trying not to jostle them too much. 

“So Stark’s got you working pretty late, huh?”

He nodded through a mouthful of pancake. “I guess so. I mean, it’s not his fault, there’s just a lot to get done.” 

“Doesn’t he have _paid_ employees that he can force to ‘get stuff done’?”

“I’m _technically_ getting paid. I don’t know. I don’t mind the work. I’m getting experience and a pretty valuable future job reference.” 

“Sure.” 

As long as Michelle had known Peter, he’d always been this way. Hardworking. Didn’t ask too many questions. Did as he was told. Was polite to a fault, and did his best to please everyone. Michelle admired his dedication to the things he cared about, but pitied him for it at the same time. She felt like his passion was a double edged sword; he did things he enjoyed doing, but got pushed around in the process and didn’t even realize it. It was sort of sad to watch. 

What grown-ass billionaire was so willing to take advantage of a child? Have him working late hours on a school night? Have him coming home bruised and battered? Peter’s self-preservation skills were seriously lacking if he wasn’t willing to stand up to a man that was meant to be _teaching_ him. 

By the time Michelle had finished her milkshake and was down to her last pancake, Peter had finished his meal and neatly stacked his plates at the edge of the table. 

“Damn, Parker, you really scarfed that down.” 

Peter chuckled nervously and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I was hungry! And the food here is great.” 

“Thank you!” The chef hollered from the kitchen. 

Both Peter and MJ just looked at each other and laughed. 

The chef chuckled as well. “Sorry kids, thin walls. And by thin walls, I mean I can hear you through this big ass serving window.” 

MJ waved him off. “It’s all good, Antonio.” 

Peter looked at Michelle, then to the kitchen, then back again. “Do you know the entire staff?” 

She shrugged. “I know a lot of the night staff. I'm here way too often.” 

Suzy came by the table, placing Peter and Michelle’s respective checks in front of them. “Ain’t that the truth.” She stopped next to Peter before walking away. “Honey, do me a favor, will you? Walk this one home. It’s much too late for such a beautiful woman to be walking the streets of New York by herself.” 

“Suzy, he doesn’t have to do that, I don’t even live that far away-“ 

“I mean, I don’t mind,” Peter said. “As long as you don’t.” 

Suzy gave MJ a look over Peter’s shoulder, and she gave in. “Nah, it’s cool. You ready to go?” 

“Now? Oh, yea, totally.” Peter pulled a few bills out of his wallet, counted them hastily, and left them on top of his receipt. Michelle did the same, and she led Peter through the diner’s front door.

* * *

The night wasn’t quiet; it never is, in the city. While not being as thick as daytime traffic, cars still sped past the sidewalk, swerving and honking endlessly. 

As MJ and Peter walked home, she chose to ignore the way he was favoring his left leg. Whoever got a hold of him had really given him a run for his money. Where all of his injuries from the internship? Surely Stark wouldn’t let him get _this_ hurt on the job. 

“So where do you live?” Peter asked. 

“The Windsor. Little red-brick building on 23rd.” 

Peter blanched. “No way, seriously?” 

“Way. Why?” 

“That’s where I live!” Someone running past the two of them bumped shoulders with Peter. He winced minutely. 

“Seriously?” 

“Yea! That’s insane! We’ve been going to school together for three years and didn’t even know we lived in the same building!” 

“I guess that makes walking me home an easier job for you,” MJ joked. 

“Guess so.” 

It really was strange that the two of them hadn’t crossed paths in their apartment building before. It wasn’t a huge place compared to some New York housing options; it only had about ten floors, roughly five units on each one. The units themselves weren’t too impressive, either.

Michelle knew or had at least seen all of her neighbors, which meant Peter definitely wasn’t on her floor. He proved as much when the two of them hopped into the elevator together, and he pressed the button for the ninth floor. 

“What about you?” He asked, hand hovering over the button panel. 

It took Michelle a moment to process his words, trying to figure out if he’d asked her a question and she’d accidentally tuned him out. She’d gotten a little too good at tuning people out over the years. “Eighth.” 

The number eight lit up and beeped as he pressed it. “One floor apart and we never knew. That’s insane.”

It was a little odd, but weirder things have happened. MJ chose not to think about it too much. 

The elevator dinged, signaling their arrival at the eighth floor. Peter awkwardly shuffled from foot to foot, apparently wondering if he should get off and walk her to her door. MJ would never admit it, but a little part of her was disappointed when he stayed put. “Have a nice night, MJ.” 

She moved to step toward the opening doors. “Yea, you too. Thanks for walking with me.” Against her better judgement, she managed to say “and don’t forget to ice that jaw, Peter,” just as the doors closed. She would have paid a week’s allowance to see the look on his face. If any of her past knowledge of Peter was still relevant, his eyes were probably as wide as tea saucers, and he’d begun nervously mumbling to himself. Even just the mental image was enough to make her smirk. 


End file.
